I Adore You
by heartbreak in stereo
Summary: Sam's an artist in every sense of the word, and Kurt ends up being his model. AU; Kum/Hevans; fluff.


**Pairing:** Kum/Hevans.

**Author's Note:** AU. Sam is 22, and an artist in every sense of the word. Kurt is 21, and a model that's used to just being photographed, and being alone. Also, the songs that are mentioned in this, I highly recommend you guys look them up; they're all soft, calm things that I personally love to death. (If anything, I suggest listening to Melpo Mene's _I Adore You_ because that's what inspired this.) 

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><p>Kurt was slightly startled by the casual style of the studio as he walked in. He was used to there being some intricate shit lying around or there being a minimalist theme, but although this had a very light, neutral color scheme, there were photographs (some unframed and framed) and paintings and even a few posters here and there, and there was just enough furniture to accommodate the supplies of his employer today—<em>Sam<em>.

He walked through the hallway into a larger room, and noticed on one desk, there were different boxes, labeled with different words—oils, watercolors, all probably paint, he deduced. Another table had a big fancy digital camera, a similarly fancy one but he assumed it was film (there was a film container right beside it), and an old school Polaroid with some photos nearby the three. Since he assumed this was what Sam would be using today, he poked through some of the photos to get an idea of the kind of photographer Sam was.

One was of a border collie in a field, looking back over its shoulder at the camera, mouth open in a smile and pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. The few others were of either streets at an artistic angle or from a bird's eye view, but the last photo was of two little kids, both probably no older than ten. They were both blonde, and although Kurt disliked kids strongly and hated to admit it, they were absolutely _adorable_ in their vintage clothing and little tea party setup and wide smiles, full of life.

A cough (_ahem_) from Kurt's left interrupted his admiring of the photos, and his blush deepened when he saw that not only was he caught poking through what could be a photographer's personal photos, but hot damn, the photographer was _gorgeous_. Slightly shaggy blonde (_obviously_ a poor bottle job) hair was sideswept, and his (large, Kurt noticed) mouth was stretched into the most charming smile _ever_.

"Hi," he said shyly as he extended a hand towards Kurt. "Sam Evans."

Kurt started stupidly at Sam and then at his hand before it registered he had to shake it (_dear God _he felt like such a dumb teenager all over again), and he smiled, embarrassed. "Kurt Hummel. I believe I'm your model for today."

"That you are," Sam agreed. "Sorry if you feel kinda claustrophobic or anything; this is my studio _and_ my home—my portfolio, I guess you can call it." Kurt nodded, taking another glance around. "Uhm, if you want to just get started, you can come and chill on the couch—I'm basically all set up."

Kurt looked over to the other side of the room, where there was indeed, a plain white couch, and nearby it, an easel. Blinking once, twice, he looked back at Sam. "Are you…_painting_ me?"

Sam looked up from picking out the colors he needed, his cheeks flushing. "Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "Is that okay? I know you're probably used to being photographed, but this is more…my style. I can do pictures, though, if you want," he rambled, obviously caught off guard; he thought Kurt's agent, Tina, told him already that Sam was more a painter than anything.

"Oh, no, it's fine," Kurt backtracked. "It's just, I've never had someone paint a portrait of me." Standing awkwardly by the couch, he spoke up again. "What do you want me to do? Sit and just look pretty for a while?"

Sam let out a soft laugh, that timid, charming smile showing up again and making Kurt's stomach flutter. "Yeah," he walked over, gently pushing Kurt onto the couch. "You're wearing clothes with color, so that's good," he mumbled, more to himself than to Kurt. "Just lean back, maybe rest your head on your hand—" he propped Kurt's elbow on the arm of the couch, the other limp on his side, pushing Kurt's shoulders down so he was slouching and leaning into the cushions. He stretching his legs out, he bent them at 90 degree angles, slightly spread so that he was sitting very leisurely. Sam then held his hands over Kurt's chest, hesitating to mess with his white and black pinstriped button-up. Glancing up at Kurt, he asked, "May I?"

Staring up at Sam with wide, dilated eyes, he breathed, "Sure."

Sam unbuttoned the top two buttons so that Kurt's collar bone was peeking out from the shirt, but more to show off that neck of his (his fingers leave Kurt's skin burning but in a way that makes him bite his tongue to keep from muttering a _holy fuck_). He tugged gently in a few places of the shirt to loosen it up, and Kurt realized he was being made to look more relaxed. Sam rolled the sleeves up (and then had to place Kurt's arms back in their positions), and then ruffled Kurt's hair just enough so that it was structured with a slight dishevel.

He then walked over to his easel, reaching over to an end table to turn on an iPod speaker. Soft acoustic started to play, and he gave Kurt a sheepish grin when the model half-smirked, half-smiled. "It helps me concentrate. Now, just relax, and can you keep that half-smile for me?"

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><p>They fell into a comfortable silence filled by the music Sam had turned on (Kurt recognized some artists, but most were new to him), and Kurt found it surprisingly easy to stay in that position. After an hour passed, he wanted to fidget a little so his legs and arms wouldn't fall asleep, but he refrained, deciding to instead focus on how Sam's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration or how Sam's white button-up was starting to adorn paint stains of various colors. He was quickly growing fond of the acoustic and indie and soft songs pouring from the iHome, humming along to the song he recognized as the acoustic version of <em>If It Kills Me<em> by Jason Mraz.

Kurt doesn't realize how intently he's looking at Sam until Sam and him lock eyes unintentionally and then they just stare at each other for a few agonizingly long heartbeats, and then Sam just gives Kurt that timid smile before his cheeks fill with color, and not a second later Kurt has the same reaction.

Finally, with the evening setting in, Sam relaxes his posture and gives Kurt a wide smile. "It's done," he says proudly, gesturing for Kurt to come over to look at the finished product. After a moment of stretching and waking up his numb limbs, he shuffles over to the easel to have his jaw drop.

It's fucking _stunning_. The colors are vivid and there's little details put in although it's not all exact like how it probably was but that just makes it so much better. There is a golden element to the painting, as if the sun was lighting up the room instead of the artificial lights. Kurt doesn't know what to say, so he stands there, looking kind of like a fish for a few minutes.

"It's beautiful," he says simply. Sam smiles and mumbles a thanks.

Kurt's departure is slightly awkward—they both don't really want Kurt to leave, but he has to. They agree to do another project again in the future, and Kurt leaves, feeling that the hallway of the condo complex is incredibly bare in comparison to Sam's condo, and Sam's mood is dampered with his departure, putting away his paints with significantly less enthusiasm than he had a few moments before.

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><p>Two weeks pass, and what they've dubbed as "<em>working on their second project<em>" consists of Sam and Kurt walking through a field with tall, uncut grass and trees surrounding the far edges of the open green, talking and laughing and Sam's dog Stanley (who Kurt recognizes from the Polaroid he saw on Sam's desk) trotting eagerly between them.

Kurt ruffles the fur on Stanley's head, exciting the dog, and Kurt starts playing with him, Stanley barking happily and following the quick movements Kurt's hands. While the two play and mess with one another, Sam takes a few steps back and holds up his Canon (he's had the thing hanging around his neck from its strap, and Kurt was wondering earlier if it was one of the ones he saw last time) and takes a few photos, smiling at the end results. Stanley noticed his owner wasn't taking part in the fun, and turned and ran towards him, leaving Kurt to just stand on his own, laughing to himself as the dog goes. Sam gets some shots of Kurt during these moments, more than content with the natural, genuine _happiness_ that's on Kurt's face in the pictures.

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><p>This time, they're not really working on anything, really—Kurt's lying on the floor beside Stanley, who's rolled over on his back, halfway asleep as Kurt rubs his belly absent-mindedly while gazing at Sam and around the room. <em>Fresh Pair of Eyes<em> is playing softly, and Sam's sitting on the sofa, sketching the image of Kurt and Stanley into one of his many sketchbooks. They talk, but right now they're listening to Brooke Waggoner's lulling song, content with the peaceful butterflies her song and the atmosphere between the two produces.

"Why did you name him Stanley?" Kurt asks, and Stanley lazily opens his eyes and turns his head to Kurt with questioning eyes after hearing his name. Kurt makes a silly face to the collie while he moves his hand up to scratch behind his ear, as if to say _Yes, I'm talking about you._

Sam pauses the movements of his pencil to give Kurt that shy smile he always seems to use around him. "Stanley Kubrick's my favorite director," he admits.

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><p>It's the middle of the night, and they've been sitting on Sam's sofa for hours (Stanley's fallen asleep beside the sofa, they've been in the same spot for so long) at opposite ends of the sofa but their legs intertwined, gazes never leaving each other's. Melpo Mene's <em>I Adore You<em> is humming in the background, and through the night Sam has found out that Kurt enjoys "borrowing" other's clothes (he's currently in a Boba Fett shirt he found in Sam's room), he loves horror movies, and used to go to butterfly gardens with his mom as a kid (they're some of the fondest memories he has). Kurt learns that a lot of the paintings and photographs and pieces of art are actually Sam's works, he's actually a little kid at heart (he owns a _shitload_ of kids movies and has the entire Toy Story gang of toys), and thinks Kurt is the most beautiful thing he's laid eyes on.

Sam's just made an incredibly accurate impersonation of Ace Ventura that leaves Kurt's eyes damp, he's laughing so hard, and Sam untangles their legs, pulling Kurt so close he's practically in his lap (not that he minds in the least). Kurt's laugh has faded but the smile is still there, and Sam's just giving him a warm, affectionate smile.

As Erik Mattiasson sings the line, Sam says it to Kurt as he's holding him there, admiring the perfection that is his being. "I adore you," he murmurs softly, his nose bumping Kurt's. Kurt isn't really sure how to respond to that coherently, so he just kisses Sam instead.


End file.
